


A Solitary Timeline

by reginaldthegreat



Category: BioShock Infinite
Genre: F/M, Immortality, Multiverse, Time Travel, True Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:01:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29419062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reginaldthegreat/pseuds/reginaldthegreat
Summary: Robert Lutece didn’t know why you lived in the single parallel universe several layers beyond the one he currently stood in, but he began to worry it was because of him. Maybe he was the reason you had died in every other universe. Maybe he was the catalyst. The thought alone filled him with insurmountable guilt. He knew it he could not blame himself for it, but it didn’t make theknowingany easier. Especially when the half of him that blamed himself for your deaths brutally conflicted with the half of him that missed the feeling of your fingers twisting into the spaces between his.
Relationships: Robert Lutece/Reader
Comments: 12
Kudos: 9





	1. died, die, will die

Rosalind leaned back from the microscope eyepiece she had been squinting through for the past few hours, her spine popping from the sudden movement. It had been four hours since she’d sat down in her chair, studying the rate of cellular decay in compliance with time travel. Her male counterpart, Robert, sat across from her on the other side of the desk, scribbling her findings down in a spiral-bound notebook, blinking rapidly to stay awake as the clock overhead dawned on midnight.

“Brother, if you’re truly as disinterested in this study as you appear, you are free to retire for the night,” she said, annoyance obvious to him, although she would appear completely apathetic to anyone else. 

“I apologize. I haven’t been able to catch a wink of sleep in days,” he admitted, praying that she could not read the undertones of his restlessness. But of course, she did.

Rosalind shook her head, disappointed is his worldly attachments. 

Two days ago, Robert discovered a new timeline, one in which you were alive. Just one. 

Every part of him itched to see you, but as fate would have it, this was a timeline in which you _hadn’t_ met him. 

He knew a lot about quantum physics, about the hows and whats of time travel, but the only way to understand _why_ something existed the way it did was via trial and error. He didn’t know why you lived in the single parallel universe several layers beyond the one he currently stood in, but he began to worry it was because of him. Maybe he was the reason you had died in every other universe. Maybe he was the catalyst. The thought alone filled him with insurmountable guilt. He knew it he could not blame himself for it, but it didn’t make the _knowing_ any easier. Especially when the half of him that blamed himself for your deaths brutally conflicted with the half of him that missed the feeling of your fingers twisting into the spaces between his. 

Rosalind patted his hand, doing her best to come across as compassionate and understanding. She cared deeply for her brother, even if she had trouble communicating it at times. 

“I understand that informing you does nothing to soothe your distraught, but it is not your fault. Truly. It isn’t,” she tried uselessly.

“I suppose,” he replied, but he didn’t. Neither of them did. It _could_ be his fault. Though, not all faults are purposeful. A better phrase for her to use could have been “you have no reason to feel guilt”. That may have held some truth. 

He stood up soundlessly, ignoring the silent protest of her gaze on his back as he made his way to the couch to curl up and sleep. Sleep itself was done more for his mind than for his body, to soothe the adversary effects of the Tear-manipulation machine on his mental state. 

Or maybe he just slept to forget about you. Sometimes, if he exhausted himself enough when he was awake, he wouldn’t even have the energy to dream.

He was vaguely aware of how pathetic it was, loving you despite the power of being a figment of the undying universe itself. But after existing forever, free to jump between all of time and space, infinite seconds of thought about everything that his life had been before he’d left his surface universe, he stopped hating himself for clinging to his memories of you. 

Acceptance of this side of him spiraled into a secret obsession, one where he’d replay memories, itching to see moments with you again and again and again until they burned into the back of his eyelids. 

Rosalind peered at the couch where her counterpart lay, curled in on himself, his shoulders lifting slightly with each inhale. She frowned, eyebrows furrowing in worry. 

He was driving himself mad. 

She frowned, suddenly completely and fully aware that he would cave in on himself if he continued to blame himself. 

The only way to solve this mystery was through experimentation. _Proper_ trial and error. Even at the expense of your life. 

Life and death had lost their glamour for the two of them… mostly. If Robert couldn’t bear to watch you die again, she’d do the dirty work.


	2. your word over mine

You scrambled to your feet when the scuffle of shoes resounded from an empty corner of your shack. You lived alone, and every sound filled you with a terror. The Founders were always accusing anyone who didn’t fit their model citizen stereotype of corresponding with the Vox. At this point, you just wanted to be left alone. You wanted to live. 

“Who are you?” you shouted into the dark corner, doing your best to keep your voice from trembling. “Show yourself!” 

“Please calm down,” a cool, unbothered female voice replied, “or don’t. I suppose it is all the same to me.”

You blinked in confusion as a red-haired woman dressed smartly in a beige blazer and long skirt stepped out of the shadows. Her blue eyes were calculating, lips set in a fine line, and not a hair out of place atop her head. Your eyes widened. You knew that face. 

“Rosalind Lutece?” you sputtered. “I- I thought you were dead! It was in the papers!”

She ignored you, clearly disinterested in entertaining your confusion, choosing instead to get to the point. 

“I will do my best to simplify this for you… you have read my theories on multiverses, I presume?” 

“Y-yes, I have,” you replied. “Why?”

“I’m aware you have seen the effects of tears on the technological advancements of Columbia.” Rosalind picked at a stray piece of lint on her tie as she spoke nonchalantly. “You must simply step through a tear with me to a parallel universe. One that is much better suited to your needs.”

“Better suited to my needs?!” you repeated, alarmed. 

“Yes.”

“A scientist who was long declared dead suddenly shows up in my house, telling me to join her in another universe, and you just expect me to comply?” you continue, voice rising with each word. It was insane. Absolutely insane.

Rosalind was unphased, however. “You will.”

“What?”

“Comply. You will.”

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. You didn’t know what to say. Lutece was the most famous scientist in all of Columbian history. You couldn’t help but believe her claims after reading the details of her various studies. Despite knowing that she was factually correct, you were unable to accept the _absurdity_ of the situation. This woman who was _supposed to be dead_ wanted you to join her in another universe. No, she said you _would_ join her in another universe. You would leave everything behind, your entire life in your surface world, for “your needs”. 

“What do you mean by my ‘needs’?” you asked.

She continued to ignore you, folding her hands behind her back as she spoke. “I will open a tear beside your closet. Step through when you’re ready.”

You opened your mouth, ready to shoot more pointless questions at her, but before you had a chance to utter a reply, she was gone. No trace remained of her. You would’ve assumed you imagined the entire thing, but as she declared, the blinding edges of a tear glinted beside the door of your closet. Any and all protests about stepping through the portal in time shriveled as you considered this:

Rosalind Lutece had died on October 31st, 1909. You had seen her grave in the papers. But you saw her, as alive as you, standing in the shambles you called home. You hadn’t seen her enter; you hadn’t seen her leave. 

If there was any reason for you to stay behind in your surface universe, it crumbled when she simply said: “You will.” You _will_ step through the portal. 

And you _did_.


	3. did, does, will do

The red in Robert’s cheeks clashed beneath his freckles in what looked like a blotching of sunset paint splatters. He was furious. No, furious was an understatement. 

“How could you bring her here? How could you?” he asked, losing his grip on his well-kept composure. 

If Rosalind was bothered by his fury, she did her best not to show it. “I had to. I was worried about you. Have you seen yourself?”

“Yes. Infinite versions of myself in infinite instants of time, in fact.”

“Touché,” she replied humorlessly. “Well, you can continue to shout at me or you can go see her.”

He ran a hand through his head, messing it up significantly as he paced. Trying to soothe the ache. The panic was setting his nerves on fire.

Rosalind watched him pass in front of her, back and forth, like the pendulum in a grandfather clock.

Abruptly, he stopped, his hands flying to her shoulders as he peered back into an identical pair of eyes. 

“Does she…” he paused, considering his words, “…does she die?”

“All of them do,” she replied coolly.

“But _does. She. Die?_ ” he repeated, his voice shaking. It had been a long time since he felt panic. A long time since he felt truly petrified with fear.

“No. Not when I brought her _here_ ,” Rosalind replied. 

That was enough to fuel his body into action.

Robert allowed himself to slip between fragments of time, vanishing from the space across from his female counterpart. 

Searching for you.


	4. for lack of better words

When you stepped through the tear, you found yourself in a shack identical to yours, but without all your belongings. It looked abandoned, the ground littered with dead leaves and moss, dust particles visible through the bits of light shining in through the spaces in the wooden planks that made up the walls. Gingerly, careful not to let your fingers catch splinters from the wood, you pushed the crooked door open, sighing in relief when you were met with a breath of fresh air. 

Your sigh of relief was cut short when someone called your name.

You looked up, a startled “oh!” escaping your lips when you were met with a figure significantly taller than you. He seemed to appear out of nowhere. 

Wait. 

Beige blazer… green tie… freckles… the man before you looked so much like Rosalind, but you had never known her to have a brother. You studied him for a moment. He had her eyes, a familiar swoop of ginger hair atop his head, and an outfit that was coordinated closely with hers… but he was softer. Less calculating. His lips were parted, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. The thought of a being so closely resembling Rosalind but without her poise and nonchalance intrigued you. 

You looked up at him, at the wide ocean eyes that were staring you down intensely, when he suddenly put out his hand for you to shake it. 

“…Robert Lutece. Lovely to make your acquaintance.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you studied his disheveled form. He seemed like he was on the verge of tears, a slight tremor in his voice.

When you reached out to clasp his hand, you found that it was shaking as well. 

“Apologies for appearing unkempt, I’m just a bit… unwell,” he explained before you had a chance to inquire about whether or not he was okay. “Nothing serious, don’t worry.”

“I see,” you said, nodding slowly. He was strange, of course, but you couldn’t help but feel like you knew him somehow. Was it because he looked so much like Rosalind? Why did he look so much like Rosalind? 

“I didn’t know Rosalind had a brother.”

“She doesn’t. Not exactly. She is my female counterpart from another universe,” he explained. “Though, we have come to view each other as twins.”

Your hand was still clasped tightly in his, his palm warm and sweaty against yours. 

You looked down at the trembling fingers, pale above your own, and he seemed to suddenly recognize that he had been holding on too long because he abruptly let go and folded his hands behind his back. 

“I understand that Rosalind promised you that you would find what you need in this universe,” he stated. “And you will have it. I assure you… you’ll be safe from the Founders here.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Do the Founders not exist in this world?”

“They do.”

“Then how am I safe?” you asked, incredulous. 

“Because you have me.”

His words hung in the air, heavy and odd. You had the feeling there was something the Luteces weren’t telling you, but you weren’t sure where to begin with your questions. You wracked your brain for a moment before clearing your throat.

“Why would you go out of your way to help me?” you asked. 

Robert swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. He opened his mouth, about to say something, but seemed to pause to reconsider his words. You watched his lips shut and open again.

“…because I do.”


	5. ridiculous

What he wanted to say and what he actually said were completely different things.

Why would he help you?

Because he does. 

That wasn’t a lie. But it still wasn’t what he wanted to say. What he wanted to say was that he loved you. 

Of course, that would have been ill-received. He wouldn’t have needed a glimpse into the future to figure that out. 

“I see you’re still upset with me,” Rosalind noted, looking up from her book to study him as he sat stiffly, drumming his fingers on the countertop. 

“You _know_ I’m still upset with you,” he muttered.

“Hm.” She made a noise of dismissal before changing the subject. “Does she find her new living situation agreeable?”

Robert glanced into the room across from their office where you were sleeping. “She doesn’t have a choice, does she?”

“She does, between her small house and our guest bedroom.”

He glared at her. “Not between here and there.”

“There being her surface world, I presume?” she returned his stubborn gaze with an unbothered look of her own, annoying him on purpose. 

He didn’t respond, opting for silence instead as he glanced at the door of the room you were in. 

“Speak to her,” Rosalind said.

“I do,” he snapped.

“I _know_ ,” she replied, and when he looked back at her, he immediately felt guilt settle in. She looked sad. And worried. 

They didn’t have to talk. Not really. 

They knew that even if Robert protected you every day of your life in your brand-new timeline, eventually you would die. Eventually you would run out of days. The last of your timelines would play out and Robert would go back, recycling days with you like he did before until Rosalind held him tightly as he cried, unable to control the way his mind slipped between moments so fast he felt sick. Trying to get a grip on his mind at that point was like trying to grab a drop of oil from a bowl of water with his fingertips. 

Rosalind would wrap her arms around him, urging him to relax. To _breathe_. To _stop moving_. Because even the most brilliant of human minds were still human after all. Given all the power in the world, the power to live forever, to never have to succumb to time… it was unfathomable for a reason. The human mind would never be able to keep track of all of it. Not forever. They were already starting to forget, having to replay moments to make sure things would happen the way they thought they would. Their minds were chipping away, their bodies perfectly intact. 

Rosalind was lucky, Robert thought bitterly. She never loved anyone except him. And the two of them would always be together. Even in insanity.

He loved someone mortal. Someone who was destined to die in front of his eyes over and over. 

“ _Speak to her_ ,” Rosalind repeated, watching him with pity in her eyes. He hated it. Hated when she pitied him. 

He didn’t have the energy to snap back at her, choosing to comply instead.

He stood up, taking tentative steps to the room you had just woken up in.

Yes, you will die. He knows that. But he can live every second with you. 

Steal every one of your seconds. 

And maybe, just maybe, because he could never be selfish enough to _ask_ you to live forever with him, he will discover a _new_ timeline. 

A timeline where you choose to live forever with him too.


	6. bound for all eternity

As the weeks passed, you continued to live with the Luteces. They always knew where you should go and when you shouldn’t. You had no choice but to blindly believe them, but sometimes their guidance confused you. Why they urged you to avoid the abbey where your employer lived, for example, was a direction beyond your understanding. 

“Why can’t I visit the tailor I worked with in my surface world?” you asked them when they were poring over a large cork board, littered with photos, articles, and string that tied everything together. 

“You’re already dead in this universe,” Rosalind answered plainly, and Robert promptly shot her a look you couldn’t decipher. The better Rosalind got to know you, the better she got at being able to explain things in ways you would understand. It didn’t help that anytime she _was_ completely honest with you, her counterpart seemed disdainful. 

No. Disdainful wasn’t right. _Protective._

You weren’t sure why, but although Robert came across as equally poised and apathetic as his sister in most situations, his monotone voice would betray his true emotions around you. There was an unmistaken pull between the two of you. You wanted to ask him about it but you couldn’t quite find the right words to do so. 

“So everyone who knows me in this world already thinks I’m dead...” you muttered thoughtfully. “I had wondered if I existed in this universe as well.” 

Neither of them responded to that, choosing instead to redirect their attentions to their cork board, though Robert’s gaze on you lingered a moment longer than his counterpart’s. You stepped closer, curious about what it was that these two were always working on. 

There were events. Each photo displayed a scene from an event, red and black string tying successive events together. The articles and pieces of paper with neat handwriting were grouped together with the photos, and you noticed that many of them included three common names: “Booker, Elizabeth, Comstock.”

“Who is this man?” you asked, pointing at the name that appeared most frequently: Booker. 

“You already know him,” Rosalind answered. 

“How?” you asked, perturbed. 

“Why ask ‘how’, when the delicious question is _’when’_?” 

“There are two universes, one where Booker become Comstock, and one where Booker remained as Booker,” Robert explained. 

“Why is he so important?” 

“He isn’t. Comparatively. His daughter, Elizabeth is far more important,” Rosalind sighed. “She doesn’t belong to Comstock...”

“...she is Booker’s daughter,” Robert finished her sentence. “We wish to return her to the universe she belongs in to prevent the destruction of New York City.”

This time, Rosalind was the one to shoot Robert a disdainful look. “I suppose one may wish for something out of duty rather than circumstance.”

You turned back to the board, noting that black string was tied to two photos that looked almost identical, with slight differences, but red string tied together completely different photos. 

“So... the black string represent tears, and the red represents successive events?”

“Exactly,” Robert approved, and you couldn’t deny, there was a hint of pride in his voice.

“She always was clever,” Rosalind noted. 

“She always _is_ clever,” he corrected.

You stared at the board, eyes darting between the various events, piecing them together. Everything felt vaguely familiar, and you wouldn’t help but wonder if you’d dreamt of standing in front of a board like this one, two unidentifiable figures on either side of you. 

“I feel like I’ve been here before,” you mumbled.

Behind you, the two physicists exchanged glances again. An unspoken agreement. 

When you turned back to look at them, Rosalind was gone. There was just Robert.

Over the course of the last few weeks, you stopped questioning when one of them randomly disappeared or reappeared. Sometimes it would definitely startle you a bit, though.

“I... have been meaning to tell you,” Robert spoke slowly, clearly on edge with what he was about to reveal, “you and I have always had history. On every plane of existence. Except the one you’re from.” 

“History?”

“Yes,” he continued. “I wanted to tell you earlier but I didn’t want to drop too much on you at once... not just _history_...”

You paused, waiting for him to continue. This was taking a curious turn. 

“...we, well, we married. In every other timeline. No matter how we met. We always ended up together,” he finished. 

The last of his sentences hung in the air heavily. You had _known_ there was something odd between the two of you, but you’d never quite been able to place your finger on it. This feeling did not retract from the surprise you felt now. 

“Oh.” you said, albeit a little stupidly. How was one supposed to react to newfound knowledge like this? 

“I... understand if you feel overwhelmed,” he urged, absentmindedly reaching up to loosen the green tie that suddenly felt constricting around his throat. “I really do.”

He looked really tired all of a sudden, and took a step back to slump in the couch beside the desk he and Rosalind often studied at. 

He looked up at your face, the face that was flooded with emotion. “The fact of the matter is... I can never not love you. I may be so bold as to say that you can never not love me, but perhaps this universe may be an exception to the others.”

There was something about seeing a man such as him looking torn and desperate that pulled at the strings of your heart. It was maddening. 

“I don’t know what to say,” you admitted.

“You have no need to say anything,” he mumbled, his voice gentle now. When he looked it you, his eyes looked wet, his ocean eyes darting between yours as if searching for something. “Though, I do have a request... if I may be so bold?”

You raised your eyebrows in questioning. 

“May I hold you?” 

His eyes were wide, pleading. You still had questions. Still didn’t really know why a man like him loved someone like you. How you’d gotten here. Why you had come to live in this universe instead of the other. 

There were so many holes in your thoughts, but you figured there was time. They could answer all the questions one day. If anyone could, it was them.

Now, despite your confusion, you found yourself walking towards him anyway, arms snaking behind his neck as you leaned over him. 

You felt him release a breath, his warm breath on your neck as he caved into you, his arms folding behind your back. 

He squeezed you tight, like you were about to slip from between his arms at any second. 

Robert Lutece was a mysterious man indeed, but somehow, you did not doubt him when he said he said he would never not love you.


	7. some kinds of love

Eventually, you’d found yourself in his lap. Not in a particularly risqué way. Both your legs were on one side, one of your arms behind his neck, one hand in his hair as he cried, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs as he realized just how much he’d missed you.

Robert kept his face buried in your neck, faintly aware that this situation was embarrassing, but couldn’t will himself to care. Not when he could feel your pulse against his cheek, the scent of your perfume and sweat washing away the overlap of memories he couldn’t seem to control these days. 

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Why?” you asked, gentle. Sympathetic.

“I can’t imagine how overwhelmed you must feel,” he uttered, each breath brushing against your clavicle. 

You chuckled softly. “Oddly enough, I’m not as overwhelmed as I thought I’d be.”

With this newfound knowledge, he looked up at you, red eyes searching yours inquisitively. 

You felt heat creep up your neck when you observed, with admiration, the slight bump on the bridge of his nose, the freckles strewn across the smooth plane of his flushed skin, and the fine lines of his jaw and cheekbones. 

You squirmed under his gaze for the briefest moment before filling the silence to relieve yourself of the tension. 

“I- I think loving you back will be considerably easy,” you admitted, surprised at your own candor. Being around the Luteces made it easier for you to be honest, probably because they always knew the truth anyway. 

Robert smiled at this confession of yours and your eyes widened. It was the first time you’d ever seen him smile. It was the first time you’d seen _either_ of them smile. 

His smile was _everything_. It transformed his face completely, all of the monotone dissipating at once. He suddenly looked so... boyish. You briefly tried to picture Rosalind smiling like this too, but the images you conjured up seemed too unbelievable. 

Robert’s warm smile melted into something smug and full of amusement when he observed your shock. 

“What?” you asked, truly embarrassed now. 

“Without fail, you always blush the first time I smile at you,” he teased, his playful words clashing with his usual flat tone. You gasped, placing your hands on his chest to push him away. 

The _nerve_ of this man. 

“You already know everything about me! Such an unfair disadvantage,” you cried. 

He bit his lip to keep himself from laughing as you fumed, his amusement fading away into warmth as he looked down at the small hands pressed against his chest.

“I missed you. You and your _order_ ,” he whispered, slowly reaching up to place a hand over yours. “You make all the noise stop.”

“The noise?”

“Yes,” he breathed. “The mind of a human being is limited, but the universe is infinite. There is only so much I will be able to handle before I succumb to madness... but you... you keep me _here_.”

You struggled to follow along. “By here you mean...”

“With you. Not in all the universes beside this one or in every moment at once. Just here,” he said, his heart rattling under his ribcage against your palm. “All of me is here with you, because every version of me _chooses you_.”


End file.
